Lord Valentine's Castle (The Majipoor Cycle, Book 1) by Robert K. Silverberg

By Robert K. Silverberg

The vintage Bestselling Saga through technological know-how Fiction Grand grasp Robert Silverberg

 

Lord Valentine’s Castle

He is a guy with out prior— a wanderer with out reminiscence of his origins. He calls himself Valentine. As a member of a motley crew of entertainers, he travels around the magical planet of Majipoor, continually hoping he'll meet a person who may give him again what he has lost.

And then, he starts to dream--and to obtain messages in these desires. Messages that inform him that he's excess of a typical vagabond—he is a lord, a king became out of his fortress. Now his travels have a purpose—to go back to his domestic, become aware of what enemy took his reminiscence, and declare the future that awaits him…

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Extra info for Lord Valentine's Castle (The Majipoor Cycle, Book 1)

Sample text

Her eyes glittered like an animal's in the darkness: she watched him like some wary beady-eyed drole. " she asked after a time. "I don't think so. " "Not only the violence. " She laughed. "Do you expect dreams to correspond exactly to reality? Valentine, Valentine, where were you taught? Dreams have a truth deeper than the reality we know. The brother of your dream could be anyone or no one: Zalzan Kavol, Sleet, your father, Lord Valentine, the Pontifex Tyeveras, Shanamir, even me. " Page 42 "I know, yes.

This is half-juggling," Sleet said. " Carabella threw; Sleet threw and caught; at once they were in the rhythm of interchange, easily passing the balls back and forth, one entity with four legs and two minds and two juggling arms. Indeed it did look taxing, Valentine thought. " As Valentine delivered each club with a quick sharp toss to Carabella's right hand, she worked it into the sequence, one, two, three, until balls and clubs flew from her to Sleet, from Sleet to her, in a dizzying cascade.

The attention of the onlookers, Valentine realized, had nothing to do with Sleet's fatigue. It was a demonic hard thing to do, was all, and the price the small man paid for his skill was a high one. When Sleet suffered, Valentine did what he could to beam comfort and strength to him. There was great pleasure for Valentine in serving the other man in that way. Twice more, too, Valentine had dark dreams. One night the apparition of the Pontifex came to him and summoned him into the Labyrinth, and inward he went, down its many passageways and incomprehensible avenues, and the image of gaunt old Tyeveras floated like a will-o'-the-wisp before him, leading him onward to the core, until at last he attained some inner realm of the great maze and suddenly the Pontifex vanished, and Valentine stood alone in a void of cold green light, all footing gone, falling endlessly toward the center of Majipoor.

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